Last Kiss
by CrazyWriter.john
Summary: Locked away in a prison of his own inner-demons, Jude opens up at last. Will it be enough to help him move on and make peace? Or are we always prisoners to our past?
1. The Story of Us

"Can you just tell me where we're going?" It was a beautiful summer night on a deserted beach in San Diego. I, Jude Jacob, was following Connor Stevens, the boy to whom I've devoted the last ten years of my life, to who only knows where. Well, _he_ certainly knows where.

Connor and I hadn't been in San Diego in years. Not since we were kids. Our lives together started here. I had been a foster kid who bounced around from home to home until I was finally adopted by two women – Lena and Stef. I had lived with them for a while.

We had met when we were 11 and fallen in love. It was an innocent, middle school romance that had grown to dominate every aspect of my life. I was devoted to Connor in every way. And I knew he felt the same. We were all each other had.

Now, ten years later, we were both 21. Life hadn't been easy for us. We didn't have much in our lives. But I didn't like to think about the bad stuff. I liked thinking about the wonderful life I had managed to carve out with this boy in front of me. Connor still looked exactly like he did when he was 16. His hazel eyes were still bright and full of joy. He was well muscled and he practically radiated his positivity. His boyish face and windswept blond hair made him pass for a teenager.

I looked tired. I knew I did. Every time I saw myself in a mirror, I could see the heavy bags around my eyes. Scrawny and underfed, I looked like a frightened rat. I hated everything about myself, except for Connor. He was probably the only thing that kept me going. That's how much I loved him.

Which is why we were in San Diego in the first place. We had been living in LA most recently in a sad little motel room. It was ratty and unkept, with mold growing on the walls and what I have to imagine were some serious structural integrity issues. But it was ours, at least for now. And being with him was the only thing that had ever mattered to me.

We made money how we could. But I don't like thinking about those kinds of things. I don't like thinking about the harsh things in life. Anyway, Connor had decided this afternoon that it was time to go. He said he had something to show me. Somehow he had scraped together enough money for a bus ticket to San Diego, and here we are.

He looks back at me and laughs. "Aren't I supposed to be the inpatient one?"

"Connor, I'm not taking another step until you tell me what we're doing! What are we doing back here in San Diego? You said you'd tell me when we got here. Well, we're here."

Connor smiled. I could see his pearly white teeth in the bright moonlight. He looked otherworldly. God, I loved this boy. "Well we're not there yet."

"Connor…"

He laughed and walked back towards me, stopping right in front of me so that I could see his face, glowing in the moonlight. I could stare into those hazel eyes forever.

"I've loved you forever," I tell him. He smiles sweetly.

"I know," he laughs. I frown and shove him.

"Jerk." He takes an exaggerated step backwards and laughs again at me. I cross my arms. "I'm done."

He reaches out and pulls me back towards him. Offguard, I stumble and fall into his arms. He stands me up, leaving his hands on my shoulders. Slowly, he brings his face close to mine, staring into my eyes. I shudder. His lips are inches away from mine. I start towards him, closing the distance until I hear him whisper.

"Look," his voice is hardly audible, but I feel him turn me away from him and away from the ocean. "Recognize it?" he asks in a normal speaking voice.

"Anchor Beach," I gasp. "Of course. How could I forget? It's where our life started." I turn back to him, my confusion clear on my face. "Why are we here?"

"Come on, I'll show you."

* * *

We're sitting at a table in the cafeteria. Not our table, of course. All of the tables have been long since replaced since we were here. Across the wall is a giant poster that reads _CLASS OF 2030 – WE LOVE YOU VP Adams-Foster_. I smile. It's nice knowing Lena is still here, saving kids. There's a pang of guilt about being back here. Being back in San Diego, back in this school, back this close to it all. But one look at Connor and I don't regret a thing. I'd do anything for this boy.

"So - and don't think I don't appreciate the trip down memory lane – but what are we doing here?" I break the silence. Connor smiles expectantly.

"I want you to tell me a story."

"We had to come here to play story time?" I sigh.

"You tell me a story, and then I'll tell you why I brought you here." Connor smiled again. I couldn't say no.

"Once upon a time there was a brave knight who rescued a sad prince from an evil witch named," Connor laughed again and interrupted.

"Not that kind of story. I want you to tell me our story."

I frowned. "What do you mean? You were there for it." He smiles. "Well, you were there for _most_ of it," I correct. "But what is it you want to hear? Once upon a time, two middle schoolers met and fell in love immediately. Then they lived happily ever after with each other and everything was perfect." I waited. "Happy?"

"Why are you lying, Jude?" I bite my lip and look down at the table. I hate it when he's like this. When he pushes for things I don't want to do. My version was the real version in my heart. Did he need something else? He reaches a hand across the table and grabs mine. I feel him squeeze, completely enveloping my smaller hand in his. Still, it does nothing to warm the chill that's somehow come over me.

"I love you, Jude. I've always loved you. But you're always doing this. You're always telling this romantic version of how things happened to avoid dealing. And you need this. I want you to tell the story from the beginning. No lies. No embellishing. No fantasy. The story of Us. The good and the bad. The pretty and the ugly. I need you to tell it the real way."

We sit there in silence. Connor holding my hand and staring at me. Me, having my hand held, and avoiding looking directly in his eyes. It's an emotional rollercoaster being back here. I know what Connor's trying to accomplish by having me do this; bringing me back here after all this time. I'm so tired on the inside. At 21, I feel like I'm ready to go to sleep forever. If it weren't for Connor in my life, I don't know if I'd want to keep going on. The ten years we've been together haven't always been easy, but everything has always been perfect between us. Maybe it's time I do this for real.

There's a fear there. I'm afraid, deep in my heart, that I'll lose him forever if I take a real look at all the pain; if a spotlight is shined on all the dark, grimey, nasty parts of our life together, will he still be there? Will I lose him forever in my heart? I don't think I could live with not loving him exactly the way I do now.

"I wouldn't know where to start," I finally tell him. "Do I start from when we first met? When I went to live with the Adams-Fosters?" Connor arched an eyebrow. "When I went to _stay_ with the Adams-Fosters" I correct. He smiles again and squeezes my hand. "I just don't know where to start."

Connor nods. "It's a pretty involved story. Let's do the prologue first." He pauses. "Why don't we start with your mom? What was she like?"

I think back to my life before Connor. Before I came to stay with the Adams-Fosters. Before I was beaten by my last foster dad. Before I had bounced around from home to home. Before I knew pain. I think back to my life with Mom and Donald. "She was…perfect," I gasp out. A lump forms in my throat and tears come to my eyes. Connor squeezes my hand.

"Just take your time. Start again when you're ready."

I don't know how long we sat there. I tried to gather my thoughts and clear myself, emotionally. Connor was right, and it was time to do this. I needed to go way back. Connor didn't push or prod, and let me have the time to myself to get ready.

"She was perfect," I start again.

* * *

My mom was perfect. She was beautiful and wonderful. It's cliché, but her smile could light up a room. I was only 5 when she died, but I remember the feeling of warmth and safety I had whenever I was around her. I think I loved Donald once too, but it's hard to remember him as he was and not as he is.

I was too young back then to remember a lot of specifics. I remember our house. Three bedrooms. Small, but it seemed huge back then. I know because I want back to look at it once with Callie.

My room was filled with toys. I remember playing dressup and dolls and games and tea parties with Mom and Callie. Every day was wonderful and perfect, and Mom was always there for me when I needed her. Every night she'd tuck me into bed and read me a story. If I had a nightmare, she'd come into my room and stay until I fell back asleep.

* * *

I smile at Connor and squeeze his hand back.

"You do that for me now."

"Are you comparing me to your mom?"

I stick my tongue out. "Can I continue?"

* * *

I don't know why it happened. Like I said before, I was only five. But I remember hearing Donald and Mom yelling at each other one night. I was asleep, and their yells woke me up. I got up out of bed. I was scared. I saw Callie creeping out of her room too. She took my hand and we walked together towards the living room.

As we poked our heads in, Mom and Donald saw us.

"Let's go for a drive," Donald slurred, "and finish our talk. The kids will be fine for an hour."

"I…I don't think that's a good idea, Donald."

"Fine, you want to do this right here in front of them? They can listen. They should know that their mom's such a-" Donald's face was red, and he was stumbling and yelling and spitting. I've never seen anything as scary as Donald the night my mom died.

"Alright! Alright alright alright!" She was crying. "Alright, just, let's put them back to bed." Mom picked me up and took Callie by the hand and led us back to our rooms. She told Callie to go wait for her and that she'd be back in a minute.

I was crying and wouldn't let go when she tried to lay me back down into bed. "Don't go, Mommy. Daddy's yelling and I'm scared. Don't leave me." She kissed my forehead.

"Sweetheart, don't be scared of Daddy. He's just a little upset right now. Everything will be better in the morning. I promise. I'll be here when you wake up." She kissed me again.

"Can you read me a story?"

"Not tonight, sweetheart. It's very late. Close your eyes for me, bug." She kissed me again. I let her lay me back down into bed. She brought the sheets up around me and tucked me in. She kissed me again. "I love you, bug."

"Love you too, Mommy," I yawned.

And she left. That's the last time I ever saw her.

* * *

"Did you ever find out what they were fighting about?"

I shrugged. "She had tried to find Robert."

"Callie's dad?"

"Yeah. Donald told Callie once. She didn't tell me for a while. She didn't want me to hate Donald. Mom had been trying to find Robert and Donald thought," I sighed. "He thought she was going to cheat on him and leave him. So he got drunk and came home and yelled at her. They went for a drive. Donald drove. And he got into a wreck. Mom died."

Connor nodded. "And then what happened?"

* * *

Mom died and Donald went to jail. I went to stay with a lot of foster homes after that. Callie and I were always placed together. It was scary, staying in new homes and with people who didn't care. I got hurt some. Physically, I mean. The kids weren't always nice. Callie protected me as much as she could. She was raped at one of the homes. I looked up to her so much. She was beautiful and kind and strong and fierce. She could do anything. I really believed that.

I believed that for a long time, but that was part of the fantasy. My brave, strong, beautiful big sister who could do no wrong, except when she did and even then she was right in my heart. That was the fantasy. Reality sucks.

We went to stay with one guy. I don't remember his name. It was over ten years ago. A whole couple of lives ago. He treated us like slaves. We were responsible for doing the cooking and cleaning. It wasn't the worst place we had ever been, but it wasn't the best. Homes where they don't hurt you are survivable. Homes where they just ignore you, that Callie and I had learned to deal with. We had each other, and it's all we needed then.

The man's wife had left him a few years before we got there. He might have been a nice person before. He was hardly with it afterwards. I think he wanted foster kids at first to not be so lonely at home. But I don't think he had anything left to love us.

One day I found some of his ex-wife's dresses. I don't know why he kept them. There was hardly anything from her left. But he kept those in his closet. They were so pretty. They were the prettiest things I had ever seen in my life, and I wanted to try one on. I wanted to look pretty. I wanted Callie to see how pretty I could be.

So I did. And he caught me, and he hit me. A lot.

Callie tried to stop him, but he was bigger and stronger. I was crying, and it hurt so much. And then we heard a loud bang and the sound of glass breaking. He stopped hitting me. And we heard the sound again and again and again. He looked out the window. Callie had taken a bat and was beating his car. The man's pride and joy was being destroyed by my big sister. He left me and went outside. She took a swing at him and missed. He punched her in the face and took the bat. The cops showed up. He told them she had beaten me, took a swing at him, and destroyed his car.

They didn't ask me what happened. She pled no contest on the advice of a public defender. She went to juvie, and I stayed with the man. We were promised I'd get to see her when she got out.

But that didn't happen. She got shanked in the joint then got released. She was placed with Stef and Lena. She convinced Brandon to come and rescue me. They did, and I came to stay with the Adams-Fosters for a while.

* * *

"You skipped over a lot there." Connor frowned."

"You said it was the prologue. That part doesn't involve you."

"You're still speeding through it. You're not getting to what's real. You're not going over the stuff that's still haunting you."

"Is _that_ why we're here? Because you're tired of listening to me have nightmares?"

"I'm tired of being your baggage, Jude."

"You're not baggage! You're everything!" I yelled. Connor withdrew his hand. Tears started falling down my face. I said softly, barely above a whisper, "You're perfect."

"I'm not, Jude. I can't be that. Because that's not real. People aren't perfect. They fuck up and make mistakes. They die. People are people. In your mind, I'm still this…" he waved his hands around, looking for the right word. "I'm this brave knight who's there to rescue the sad prince. But the problem is you're never done being the sad prince. So I'm not there to rescue you. I'm there to keep you locked up in your tower."

He took my silence as a sign that he could continue.

"I'm not 16 anymore. I'm tired of seeing you sad. I want to rescue you, but you're the only one with the key. So, please do this for me. Do this for your brave knight so you can finally leave this place."

"You're the one who brought us here."

"You never left, Jude. I want you to look at what happened to you for a change and stop trying to bury it. Stop trying to bury me. I want you to take the time you need and really tell this story."

I sighed. Connor was right. Connor is always right. But so was I. The foster homes weren't important. "I survived, Connor. That's the important part about before. I lived. What happened to me there…it's not the worst that ever happened to me. But it doesn't matter. What I learned there was how to live without love. I was on autopilot that whole time. I learned how to not get hit. I learned how to deal with not being wanted. But I don't want to revisit every detail or every kid I knew. Some bad stuff happened and then I ended up here. And here's where everything real happened. Everything that brought us to where we are today." I was breathing hard. I think I had raised my voice again. Connor looked unfazed by it all. After a few minutes, I started again. "I'll tell the story, Connor. You're right, and I need to do this. But I want to do it my way. That stuff before isn't what matters."

Connor smiled. "Feeling better?"

"No." I admitted. "But I'm glad you're making me do this."

"Well that was the easy part. Think you're up for doing the rest?"


	2. Chapter 1 - My First Night

**AN:** This is going to be fairly AU retelling of the Fosters – from the perspective of Jude – but I'm going to change significant portions of the story. I hope you all enjoy it.

"Okay, so you got rescued," Connor broke the silence again. "What happened next?"

"Are we going to have a blow-by-blow of my life until we get to now? I think it'll be morning before we're done. Probably don't want to get caught breaking back into our old school, hm?" I teased.

"Afraid of making Lena's day?" I frowned and glared at Connor. That was low. I hadn't ever meant to hurt her. I hadn't ever meant to hurt anyone. Connor raised his hands in a sheepish apology. "I'm sorry. Out of line, I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm just a little jealous of you."

"What do you mean?" Connor was fit, beautiful, happy…perfect. Everyone loved Connor. What did he have to be jealous of?

"Lena and Stef took you in because they wanted you. They became your family because they loved you so much that it made family. My dad should have been my family but couldn't bring himself to love me."

"Or me."

"It wasn't you, Jude. He couldn't take me not being what he wanted. He had this whole dream for his life, and I had a place in there. I just didn't behave."

"How dare you have a life of your own."

"If only I could get you to stick up for yourself the way you do me."

"You make it easy by being perfect." My teasing smile betrayed my feelings. Even if I meant it as a joke, I was being honest. I'd defend anything Connor did. "Besides, he came around in the end. I know it was late, but better late than never."

"Is it really?" Connor asked. He gazed wistfully through me, not really looking at me or expecting an answer. He was caught in his own contemplation, I guess. As much as he could be in his own head, anyway. I had never bothered to consider what kind of demons might trouble Connor. It was the first time in a long time I'd considered Connor as a vulnerable person. A person who could hurt and be upset. A person who could get jealous. A person. Someone who didn't live just to make my life better. What a selfish shit I've been. Maybe that's the point of all of this.

"But you're jumping ahead," Connor added, bringing us both back to reality, if that's what this was. "Like you said, that's at the end. We've still got a ways to go. You had just been rescued."

* * *

There were a lot of cop cars there. A blonde female cop – the one who had busted through the door and saved Callie, the other boy, and me – had taken me to a car and sat me down. She had gotten a blanket out of her trunk and wrapped me up in it. It wasn't cold outside, but the blanket was comforting all the same.

"Can I see Callie?"

"Not yet, love. I need her to-"

"Jude! Let me see Jude! Please, let me see Jude!" I could hear Callie screaming. Another officer was holding her back. Callie was pulling and fighting with him, reaching out to me. "Please let me see my brother," she broke down sobbing as she fought the officer's grip.

"Mike," Stef yelled out. "Let the girl see her brother, okay? No need to make a scene."

The officer released Callie, who came running for me. I jumped up and ran to her and held my arms out, crying.

"Jude, oh Jude I've missed you Jude." She grabbed me up in her arms and swung me around, burying me in a hug and kissing me all over. "I've missed you. Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did that bastard touch you?" I kept crying and holding her. "Jude why are you crying, baby?" She put me down and kneeled, looking me in the eyes. She brought a hand up and held my face, bringing it my forehead up to hers. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Callie. I've missed you so much. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I wanted to visit you in juvie but he wouldn't take me. Callie I missed you so much. Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me again."

She kissed my forehead. "I promise, I'll never leave you again." And that's a promise she kept.

* * *

"Jude?" Connor asked sternly. "What did I say about lying? If you're not going to do this the right way, there's no point."

I nodded. "Sorry."

* * *

What I meant was she tried her best to keep the promise.

I held Callie for what felt like half a second and hours. It wasn't long enough, but nothing else mattered at all. I loved my big sister back then.

Stef came over and broke the moment. "Callie, honey, I know this has been a very stressful night for you, but, uh, I need to take you and Brandon to the station. And I'm going to take Jude home for the night."

"No!" I screamed and reached out for Callie. She held my hand. "I'm not leaving Callie ever again. You can't take her away from me!"

Callie squeezed my hand. "It's alright, buddy. I'll be back in the morning. They're good people. Stef is a good person. She and Lena both. They're nice. She won't hurt you." She sniffed. "I'm not going to leave you this time."

"Mike, can you take Callie and Brandon to the station? I'm going to take Jude back home and then meet you guys there."

* * *

I had started to cry again. "You alright?" Connor asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, it's just a hard part of the story."

"Why's that? Sounds like a happy part. You went to stay with Lena and Stef, right?"

"Callie isn't going to be there in the morning." Connor stared at me. Finally, he nodded.

"She didn't come back and become a great advocate for foster kids and get adopted? Or something like that? Fall in love with Brandon and have a beautiful teenage dramatic romance?"

I gave a bitter, hollow laugh. Connor had listened to too many of my fantasies. "Callie broke her parole, so she was sent back to juvie that night. She was sentenced to another 7 months."

"Shit, poor girl. No wonder she turned out the way she did. The system really wasn't fair to her."

* * *

I didn't know yet that though. I didn't know that Callie wouldn't be coming to stay with us. Stef drove us to her house. It wasn't large, but it radiated hominess. It didn't have the broken, sad quality that so many of my foster homes had. Even this late at night, with nearly all the occupants asleep and completely drowned in the darkness of the night, I could tell that this was a home where people were loved.

Stef walked me up to the door. She kept her hand on my shoulder and guided me along. All the excitement at the house had gotten my adrenaline running and woken me up. Now though, I was exhausted and ready to sleep. Stef was as good as forcing me to walk as she was trying to comfort me.

We stopped at the door. She leaned down to me. "Okay, love, I need you to be quiet in there, okay? All Jesus and Marana are asleep." I nodded my head.

"Yes, mam."

"Good boy."

The porchlight came on and the door opened.

"Stef! Are you alright? Where are Brandon and Callie? Who's this?" Another woman came out. Lena. She was warm and motherly. She was beautiful. She was perfect.

* * *

"Perfect, hm? Did she slay?"

"Shut up. She _was_ perfect. Lena didn't have a single flaw in her. She was kind and smart and beautiful. And she put everyone before herself."

"That sounds like a flaw though, doesn't it? Can't balance your personal needs with helping others? Probably burns you out and makes you incapable of-"

"Stop it." I could take a lot of Connor busting my chops. I couldn't take this. Lena was the person who stuck up for me more than anyone. She stuck up for me when I was bullied. She told everyone to leave me alone about how I was. She supported me when I fell in love with Connor. Lena always supported me and loved me. Lena was perfect. Lena was a mother, through and through. "Leave Lena alone. Just let me have this one."

"Jude, the point here is that _no one_ is perfect. But you have this need to see people this way. You need to see people as these superhumans who can take care of you."

"If I can't say perfect, what should I say?"

"Just tell it like it is."

"Maybe I could if you'd stop interrupting."

"Fine. Fine, you tell the story, I won't interrupt."

* * *

Stef explained the situation to Lena. I was Callie's little brother. My old foster father was abusive. Callie had convinced Brandon to come rescue me with her. When he saw her, he pulled a gun. Stef showed up at the last minute and saved us all from getting shot.

Stef left me there. I've had a lot of first nights in new homes. Even having had a gun pulled on me, this was the first time I had ever felt safe in a home.

"You don't have any pajamas?" We were sitting at the kitchen table. Lena had made me a sandwich while talking to me, getting to know me. Surprisingly, she actually sounded interested. Usually it's just the standard – any food allergies? Here are the rules. Here are your chores. Here are the places in the house you can't be. Don't make any disturbances or you're out. Not Lena though. Lena seemed like she honestly cared about me.

They had three kids – Brandon, who was Stef's son from a previous marriage. And they had two foster kids, Jesus and Mariana. Jesus and Mariana seemed to be treated just as well as Brandon. There were no outward differences in their clothes or responsibilities or stuff. And they even all got their own rooms. You heard rumors in the system about places like this. Homes where the foster parents actually wanted the kids. But you knew you'd never end up somewhere like this.

It was nice. It was really nice.

I shook my head to answer her question. "No, mam." I knew from experience to always be respectful. A lot of foster parents were tinpot dictators.

"What did you sleep in?" I was sitting in her kitchen, eating a sandwich. Callie and Brandon were still with Stef, and the other kids were upstairs. I think Lena had told them not to crowd me.

I shrugged. "I don't need anything, mam. I'm fine sleeping in my clothes."

Lena sighed. "No, we'll find you something to sleep in tonight, and then tomorrow I'll take you shopping, bud, okay? We'll get you some new clothes to start school in. And please, stop calling me mam. All the other kids in this house call me 'momma'. You can call me that or Lena. But mam makes me sound so old. Deal?" She was so gentle and kind, she reminded me of my own mother.

I nodded. "Deal. But you don't need to waste money on me," I answered, matter-of-factly. It was dangerous to want too much from a foster parent. Technically, they were paid to take care of you, but it wasn't enough compensation to make up for the real cost of raising a child. And if they felt like they were spending too much on keeping you alive, they could get cruel.

"Hey," Lena said sharply and reached out for me. I naturally recoiled. She diplomatically placed her hand on the table in front of me. "You are _not_ a waste. Don't you ever let me hear you talking badly about yourself again, you hear? You are worth something. I know you haven't always been places where you've felt that way, but as long as you're in this house, you're loved. You hear me?"

* * *

"It's a shame you never believed that." Connor added.

"I thought you promised to stop interrupting."

"It's an object lesson. Everyone will eventually disappoint you."

"Well, that's bleak."

"It's supposed to be comforting. Everyone is human and all that. None of us are any weaker or stronger than anyone else. You're enough to save you."

"If you're done, I'd like to get through this so we can get on with whatever the hell it is we're doing here."

* * *

I took a few minutes to process and nodded. I didn't know what her angle was, but it felt nice to agree to being worth something. Even if I still don't know what that means. "How long?"

"How long what, sweety?"

"How long are we staying here? With you, I mean." At eleven years old, I was so tired of moving. I wanted to be done with it all. I wanted her to tell me we'd be there forever.

"Until we can find you a permanent home. I promise you, I'm not going to let you or your sister end up in another home. This is your last waystation."

"Do you mind sleeping on a couch tonight? I know it's not ideal, but we don't have any other beds. It's that or a sleeping bag."

"I don't mind at all! It's better than what I was sleeping on." Lena smiled sadly and touched my shoulder.

"Let me go get you some pajamas."

* * *

"She got me some hand me down pajamas that had belonged to Jesus. They were green and had soccer balls on them. I loved them. They made me feel so loved. Even after Stef and Lena went and bought me clothes, I still wore Jesus's old pajamas sometimes. It was a connection to that first night."

Connor smiled. "I remember them. You wore them the first time I slept over."

"I had to impress you with my sports knowledge."

He laughed. "You _never_ impressed me with anything sports-related, Jude. But that's not why I love you."

"Love you too. But that was my first night. Lena made up the couch and I went to sleep. When I woke up, Stef and Lena told me it would be a little bit longer before Callie could come and live with us. I was angry with Callie for breaking her promise."

"Sounds like we're skipping the good parts."

"We're just skipping the boring parts. I was mad at Callie, but nothing happened in the first few days. I met Brandon and Jesus and Mariana. Lena and Stef ordered a bed and put it in Jesus's room for me, but I slept in Mariana's room every other night anyway. It took a few days before I started at Anchor Beach."


	3. Chapter 2 - Choices

I stood up from the table and offered Connor my hand. He grabbed it softly and smiled wryly up at me.

"What's this?" He asked. "I'm having fun rehashing the past."

"You mean having me tell you our life story?"

"So far it's just your life story."

"My life story _is_ your life story, goof. Come on, I'm tired of sitting around. Let's go exploring a bit. I want to see Momma's office." Connor pulled himself up, nearly pulling me over in the process. "Easy there, you brute. The hand was just a gesture."

He laughed. "Sorry, sometimes I just don't know my own strength."

"Mhm." We walked towards the door of the cafeteria. Stopping at the door, I looked back inside and turned to him. "Do you remember the first time we spoke?"

"You mean the first time I spoke to you? As I recall, you didn't really talk. You just made some mouse sounds."

I grinned and grabbed Connor's arm, pulling him up closer to me. His arm came out wide and he pulled me in, pressing my body up against his, my head resting on his chest. His hand made its way up to my hair and he stroked the back of my head softly. Bringing his own head down, I could feel his face press into my hair, kissing it softly and breathing in the scent.

"I never get tired of how good your hair smells." His other hand came up to my lower back, grabbing softly at my shirt. "You know, this football stud never did get the chance to take you under the bleachers."

I scoffed and pulled myself away from him. Connor slacked his arms enough to let me pull back, dropping his hands to either one of my arms, keeping me close.

"Is that all I am to you, hm?" I teased. "A piece of ass to show off? A conquest to talk brag about with your buddies?"

"I don't think they'd be too interested in hearing all about our details. Besides, it's not like I ever got the chance."

I sighed and looked down. "I know. That was my fault. Sorry about that. I just…," I felt a hand come up and touch my face. Gently, he raised my head up to look him in the eyes.

"Jude, that wasn't your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself." Suddenly, I felt myself pulled in towards him, his head coming down, and lips pressing against mine. In total surprise, I let him hold me upright as his tongue invaded my mouth, penetrating it deeply. I brought my own tongue up to taste his; it felt firm and hard, fully extended into me. I brought my hands up to lie on his chest; it was hard and strong, firm and muscular. Connor's own hands found their way down my back and rested up against my backside. A feeling of belongingness radiated through me as I felt him squeeze me gently.

I wanted to belong to him in every way. And all too soon, I felt him release me, both from the kiss and his grasp. Stepping backwards, I whimpered at the sudden loss of physical contact. He smiled and leaned back in for another peck.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll manage to make me do that again before it's all over."

" _Make you?"_ I asked, dumbfounded. "I don't recall _making_ you do anything."

"You have your ways, Jude Jacob, you have your ways. Besides, you were getting ready to tell me about our first lunch together and how you totally said something."

* * *

It was my first day at Anchor Beach, and I was terrified. New schools? Please, I had been doing that almost since I had started school. One advantage of being punted from foster home to foster home is that you got used to being in new places pretty quickly. It wasn't first day anxiety that really had me upset.

I actually hated being at a school for too long. There's a sort of removedness I developed from people, going through this whole process of starting at a new school. It sucked. You saw all these kids, and they had their friends and their enemies. They had stories from previous years that they could rehash with each other. They had their favorite teachers and hated teachers. Their parents knew each other and participated in the PTA or coached for Little League or this that and the other. The kids had a life at these schools is what I'm getting at. And I didn't. And I never would.

I didn't have parents, so they wouldn't be participating in any kind of school function. My foster parents weren't going to dedicate the time, even the good ones. And I wasn't going to stay at any particular school, so the friends I did make would eventually leave me. Hypothetically speaking, because I didn't ever make friends as such. Nobody liked being friends with the foster kid.

Foster kids make adults uncomfortable, because they think you're probably a bad kid or stupid. Or both. And there's also some pity mixed in there too, because my parents are dead and that's sad. When you mix all that together, you get them feeling sorry for you, ashamed that their life is so nice and yours is so crappy, angry because they know there's something they could do about it but they really don't want to, and afraid because who knows what you've done and maybe you deserve where you are. So they don't really like you, and they don't want to spend too much time with you. You make them feel bad feelings, and no one likes feeling uncomfortable or bad things.

Kids, on the other hand? They're just cruel. They'll laugh that your mom is dead. They'll make fun of you for wearing shabby clothes, shoes that don't fit, having a depressing lunch, not having any toys, not being able to see movies or play video games. Kids are mean, and they're even meanier to different kids. And I was different.

So I didn't make friends, but I would sometimes make an acquaintance. Somehow, every school had a few children that, despite the best efforts of their peers, seemed to have something resembling a conscience. They wouldn't hang out with me, because that's social suicide. But they were nice to me. If there was a group project, they might grab me after they had already gotten all their friends. If I didn't have anywhere to sit at lunch, they might let me sit with them. They'd never stick up for me or invite me to hang out with them outside of school, but they didn't actively make my life miserable either.

Except, in the end, I'd leave them. I'd move to a different family and a different school. I'd tell them I was leaving, and they'd say something polite; and that's that. Any relationship we had would inevitably end. That's the way of life, really. We're all alone in the end. Everyone you meet will eventually leave you, if you don't leave them first.

* * *

Connor frowned and opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.

"Yes?"

"Sorry, I know you hate these interruptions."

"Does that mean you're going to quit interrupting me?"

Connor looked at me for a long time. "I didn't leave. I'm still here."

I leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He didn't return the gesture. "That makes you the exception that proves the rule, I guess."

Connor pulled away from me completely and walked over towards a window of the cafeteria. He stared out at the night sky. I followed him and looked out. It was a beautiful night. The sky was littered with stars, all shining brightly on a black night sky. The moon shone across the ocean, illuminating the waves crashing up onto the shore.

I can't imagine what this must have cost the school. This property, I mean. It was prime location. I wonder if it was a gift, years ago, from a wealthy patron looking to make a difference.

"The Fosters didn't leave you either. You left them."

"I didn't have a choice, Connor." I reached my hand out and grabbed his. I squeezed it gently, but, again, I didn't get a return gesture. Looking in Connor's face, I started to see just how aged he looked. It was the first time I had ever noticed. That boyish, all-is-fine-with-the-world smile he seemed to always radiate was falling. I wondered what he kept under that façade. Regret? Depression?

"You had a choice. We always have a choice." He sighed and turned back towards me.

"Do you think I made the wrong choice?" I asked quietly.

"I think…," Connor paused. He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed it softly. "I think you expect for people to hurt you, and so you leave them before they can."

I shook my head and pulled my hand away. "You're wrong, Connor." I walked back towards the door. How dare he? I expect for people to disappoint me? What the hell? No, I'm done having an inner monologue. I turned around and faced him. He was still standing by the window, looking a little scared. The moonlight shining in through the window gave him a ghostly appearance.

"What the hell? I _expect_ for people to disappoint me? Let's have a little recap. Mom? Killed by Donald. Callie? Constantly got us kicked out of homes. Hell, she was even part of the reason we had to leave here." I had started to shout, but I didn't care anymore. "I could probably have even gotten adopted if it wasn't for her! Cute little boy with dead parents? Adorable, let's take in the stray puppy. Stray puppy that comes attached at the hip with constant trouble making sister who's always getting into fights and breaking shit and will probably wind up pregnant at 16? No thank you!"

"So you think it's Callie's fault you're way you are today?"

"You're damn right I do."

"Then why did you run away from the Fosters? They were going to adopt you."

"You are un-fucking-believable, you know that?"

"Answer the question, Jude. Stef and Lena were going to adopt you. So why did you leave them? They didn't reject you because of Callie."

"No, but they weren't going to adopt her either. What was I supposed to do?"

"She had sex with Brandon, Jude. What did you think they were going to do? Let them both live together under the same roof?"

"And whose fault is that? Sounds like Callie's fault to me."

"You're dodging."

"No, I'm not. You asked me if this is all Callie's fault, and it is. She had sex with Brandon, and that led to us not getting adopted."

"No!" Connor yelled and hit his hand against the wall. He sighed and visibly calmed himself and repeated more softly, "no. Callie had sex with Brandon and that's why _she_ didn't get adopted. You made the choice not to get adopted. Why?"

"Because I didn't want to get pulled away from my sister, Connor. What was I supposed to do? Let them split us up? Besides…," I sighed again and walked back towards him. I stopped a few feet away. Seeing Connor this angry hurt. Did he really think I was responsible for everything? I hadn't played a role in any of this. Things happened to me, I didn't ruin things. It was Callie's job to ruin things. It was Donald's job to ruin things. "I don't even know if they would have adopted me."

"They said they would."

"They said that before they knew about Callie and Brandon."

"They said it didn't change anything."

"But I heard them talking about it."

* * *

I had spent most of the night crying in my bedroom. Jesus and Brandon were out. Mariana was in her bedroom with Callie. I was so angry with her. _How could she do this?_

Callie had only been out of juvie a few months when I started to notice the trends. She and Brandon were always in the same room when I walked in. When they touched, they stayed a little bit too long. She was too mean to him. She challenged everything he said and always tried to one-up him in an argument. If he disagreed with her, she'd flip out and yell at him. She'd try to destroy anything he liked, just because she could.

I knew the signs of Callie setting her sights on someone. She had her eyes on Brandon.

So it came as no surprise when we found out they'd had sex. It was Brandon who told. He told Lena, who naturally told Stef. They confronted Callie and Brandon about it downstairs earlier today. I didn't get to hear that part of it. I just got the aftermath.

"Stupid dykes," Callie burst into my bedroom. Instantly, I sat up. Callie didn't take out her anger on me physically, and usually she didn't do it verbally. But when Callie was angry enough, she might not think before lashing out. And Callie knew how to hurt. Just ask Brandon.

"What happened?" I asked. I was trying to be the sympathetic brother, but I knew our time here was over.

"Brandon was such a fucking momma's boy and went and told those dumb dykes that we fucked a few times. God, you should have heard him. _It meant something to him,_ " she mocked. "Please, boy just lost his virginity and now he thinks we're, what, together forever?"

"Callie," I buried my head in my hands. "Callie how could you? They were going to adopt us." I looked up at her and shouted. "Don't you understand? They were going to adopt us!"

Callie rolled her eyes. "Big deal, I'm almost 17. In a year I'll be aged out anyway. What good is adoption for me at this point?"

How could she be so selfish! "Did you ever think about me? I like it here. They're nice to us here."

"Maybe they were nice to you. They treated me like a criminal as soon as I showed up."

"Because you act like one."

"Do you remember what I went to juvie for, huh? First saving your faggot ass from getting beaten up for wearing dresses," my face flushed red in embarrassment and anger, "and then for showing up to save you _again_ from that homophobic prick before he got tired of it and just killed you. So I get sent to juvie, you get to be the special delicate flower here, and then I show back up and you're pissed at me? The fuck do you think you are, little man?"

I ground my teeth and growled "You didn't have to do any of that. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, getting your ass whooped. But I guess you got Connor to beat your ass now, huh?"

I jumped up off the bed. "Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!" I screeched at her. Tears were falling down my eyes, hands balled into fists as I stamped my feet. "Shut up and don't talk about him!"

She laughed and shoved me back on the bed. "Dude, chill. I've got no problem with you being his little boytoy. Saves me the trouble of having to look out for you all the time."

I rolled over and put my face in my pillow. "Can you just leave me alone?"

"Whatever, dude. Get some of that sand out of your vagina and try to chill out," I heard the door close.

I think I had fallen asleep. Finally, I heard a knock on the door. I rolled over. Callie wouldn't knock.

"Who is it?" I asked groggily. I looked over at the clock. 6 am. I had been asleep for 15 hours. Jesus was nowhere to be seen

"It's me, bub." I heard Lena say softly. "Can I come in?"

"It's your house," I answered.

"But it's your room. Can I come in?" she asked again. Lena could be too sweet for her own good. I sat up and tried to flatten my wild bedhead. The doorknob turned and Lena walked in. She was already fully dressed. Lena had this angelic, Earth mother quality to her that always calmed me.

She sat down on the bed next to me and brought a hand up through my hair, smiling at its wild, unkempt state. "Rough night?" she asked.

"You tell me." Bringing a hand around my shoulders, she drew me in towards her and kissed me on the forehead.

"You know what happened, don't you?" she asked.

I tried to scoff, but it came out as a sob. Bringing a hand up to my face, I wiped the tears and snot away. "I knew before you," I croaked out.

Lena continued to hold me, rocking me gently. "You know we can't adopt Callie, right?"

I started to cry full on. Lena kept holding me, and I hated her so much. I hated her for Callie ruining everything. I hated her for telling me reality. I hated her for acting so damn motherly. I hated her because I wanted nothing else in the world but to feel the love and security I felt in this home. And Lena was telling me that my time was coming up.

"When?" I finally asked, as my crying subsided into hiccups. The implicit question. When do we leave.

"Bub, we can't have Callie in this house. Not if she and Brandon…we can't have Callie in this house. But that doesn't mean we love her any less," Lena was starting with the excuses. She was too nice to let herself just kick us out. She'd have to equivocate and blame us for it.

I made a harsh laugh. "Yeah. I can really see all the love."

"I know it may not seem like it now, but it's better for Callie in the long run if she's not in a house with a boyfriend."

"Callie doesn't do boyfriends."

Lena smiled down at me sadly. "You're too young to say things like that."

"When do we leave?" I changed the subject. I wanted to be done with this.

"Bub, no. _Callie_ can't stay in this house. But we still love her, and we still want you to be part of this family. Stef and I talked about it with the other kids last night. They all still want us to adopt you."

I shook my head. "What about Callie?"

Lena hugged me close. "I think it's great that you want to stay with your sister. And we won't make you stay here if you want to stay with her. But Callie's made her own choices, and it's time to start thinking about what's best for Jude for a change."

* * *

Later that night, I was going downstairs to get a glass of water. And that's when I heard voices coming out of Stef and Lena's room. I knew it was wrong to snoop, but I stopped when I heard my name.

"I'm not saying he's a bad kid, Lena."

"Then what are you saying? Because his sister made some mistakes that Jude should have to pay for it?"

"Honey, keeping Callie here is impossible."

"And I agree with that," Lena countered immediately. "But that's no reason why Jude should have to go back into the system. He's making such great progress here. He's open about his sexuality, he's socializing more, and he trusts us Stef. He finally trusts us."

"I know that, Lena. Jude's done great here."

"If you send him back in there, it'll kill him. He'll never be the same. He's so sweet and soft and sensitive. Can you imagine what having to go back now would do to him? It'll kill him."

Stef sighed.

"And what happens when Callie wants to visit? What happens when Callie breaks Brandon's heart and Jude is around all the time? What happens when Jude wants his sister around? When he misses her? What do we do then?"

Lena sighed. "We have to be in agreement on what we do."

Stef laughed. "What I'm telling you here Lena is that we're _not_ in agreement. Jude is a wonderful boy, but we can't keep him. Not after this."

"Can we just not talk about this now?"

I quietly made my way into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and cried uncontrollably until I fell asleep, the water still running.


	4. Chapter 3 - Ruin

"And so you bolted," Connor said flatly.

"You know what, fuck you, Connor," I finally spat out.

"You ran away. You heard half a conversation, out of context, and so you ran. You ran because you're afraid."

"They were going to send me away. I never would have seen you again."

"Bullshit, Jude." Connor was shouting again. He was pissed. "You didn't know what they'd do. We could have gone to them. They could have helped us with Adam. Even if they were going to kick you out, they could have helped you find a new home in San Diego." He shook his head. "They could have helped me. You ever thinking about that? They fucking loved you." He slammed his hand against the wall again. "They loved you, and you didn't give a shit. You just tricked me into thinking that we had to leave, and now here we are. Have you ever stopped to think about how much you've crushed them? Did you ever even think about how good you had it here?"

"In case you've forgotten, asshole, I bounced from foster home to foster home. Yeah, I know a thing or two about living with people who don't love you."

"Boo fucking hoo, that's all you ever do. You cry and whine about how hard your life has been to you. Guess what, other people go through shit too. But you don't care. You never have. All you care about is you. When I was going through shit with my dad, I was always holding _you_. I was always comforting _you_. You never could take two seconds to think about someone else. That maybe I needed something. As we've gone from shithole to shithole, I've always been taking care of you. I always _have_ taken care of you. You can't do anything for yourself." Connor paused. He was panting heavily from his tirade. He started again. "You wanted out, and so we left. You knew we had options, but you didn't care. Because I made you feel better about your crappy life. So you lied to keep me around. Or you weren't honest, it's the same shit." He looked at me with pure disgust. "I wasn't you, Jude. I could have been something. You let me throw all that away for you."

"Did I ruin your life? Has it really been so horrible? Is it really that awful being with me?" I wanted to cry. How could Connor do this?

"Do you really want an answer to that?" There was no emotion in his voice now; just a monotone, emptiness.

"Yeah. Tell me how fucking horrible I've been. Tell me how I ruined your life and made you throw everything away. Tell me how Adam is my fault, it's my fault that we ran away from here. Tell me how I could have helped you. Tell me how it's my fault my mom died and Callie was a constant screw up. Tell me how it's my fault that I had trouble dealing with this shit as a 12 year old. Tell me about it all Connor. You've clearly kept it pent up for years, so just tell me. Tell me that I ruined your life!"

Connor shook his head. "I don't think you ruined my life. I think we ruined each other's." With that, Connor turned and walked out of the cafeteria. I didn't follow him. I don't know if he was expecting me to or not, but I had no intention of following him right now. And honestly, fuck him.

I exited the other side of the cafeteria, wandering down the hallways. It's probably fair to say we ruined each other's lives.

* * *

After I heard Lena and Stef talking about me, I snuck out early the next morning, before either of them had a chance to talk to me. The sun was still rising, and I took my bike and made my way to Connor's house. It was dim out, and the grass was wet with the morning dew. I parked my bike in front of his mailbox and crept around to the back of the house. Sometimes, I'd sneak out at night and climb up into Connor's bedroom. He kept his window unlocked so I could get in, even if he was asleep.

Sometimes I'd have nightmares or get sad, and I'd need to see him. And sometimes I'd just need to see him. Moms didn't like it when I left. And Connor's dad, well, he just wasn't cool with the whole gay thing. Not after he caught us making out once.

" _I don't ever want to see him with you again. You've made your choice, and I can't stop that. But this is my house, and I don't want to have to see my son like_ that _with another guy."_

That's what Connor's loving father had told him. So the rule was instituted. Connor could come over to my house, and Adam wouldn't stop it. Connor and I could hang out, and Adam wouldn't stop it. But I wasn't allowed over there, because Adam wanted to pretend like I didn't exist. Connor didn't mention my name. I didn't ask for details, because they were too painful to hear. But I still snuck out sometimes to see him at night. We just had to be careful that I was gone before Adam woke up in the morning.

Which is why it was so easy for me to scale the house and open the window. Dropping lightly onto the floor, I took in the sight of my boyfriend, spread ridiculously out over his queen-size bed – apparently trying to get his body in contact with as much of it as possible – snoring loud enough to cause the floor to shake. Or maybe I'm just exaggerating.

Quietly, I padded my way over to his bed. I slipped off my shoes and laid down next to him. He grunted slightly and opened an eye sleepily.

"What time izzit?" he muttered.

I giggled and shushed him. "It's very early."

"Love you," he whispered. His morning breath was awful, but somehow I loved the smell.

"Love you too," I whispered. An arm reached out and he pulled me in closely, holding me against his body as he drifted back to sleep. I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. I closed my eyes and fell asleep too, the first good sleep I'd had in weeks.

At least until we heard him.

"Get out," we heard Adam growl. Both Connor and I jumped up at Adam's voice. "Get out. Connor, get him the fuck out of here! NOW!" he yelled.

I leapt off the bed. "Mr. Stevens," I said, raising my hands apologetically, "I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-" what exactly I didn't mean to do, I didn't get the chance to say. Adam's hand whipped out and backhanded me across the face. My head was spinning, and I was on the floor. I was holding my face, crying from the pain of the blow.

I felt an arm pulling me up. There was a thud. No, there was a thud first, then I was pulled up to my feet. Adam was on the floor, holding his face. Connor was pulling me up, the fury spelled out across his face. His first was red. I tried to focus on Adam. Adam's face was badly bruised. Connor had punched him.

"Get the fuck out, both of you, and don't ever come back," I heard Adam yelling. "No son of mine!"

I was being pulled, literally, out of Connor's room. We were running. He was running. We ran. Down the stairs, out the house, down the street, and we kept running. We couldn't hear Adam shouting anymore. I was panting. Connor was panting. We were at the beach.

Connor collapsed into the sand. I dropped down beside him and started crying.

"I'm so sorry, Connor. I shouldn't have come over, I'm so sorry."

"Shh," he rolled over and held me. He started to kiss me all over. "Shh, Jude, shh. It's not your fault. I'm sorry for that fucker. Are you alright? Did he hurt you badly?" Connor inspected my face. It was sore and tender. He brought a hand up and brushed it against my face. I winced. "Oh my God, Jude, I'm so sorry he did that to you."

"All my fault," I muttered.

"No," he kissed me again. "Nothing is ever your fault, Jude. You're too perfect."

We lay on the beach for a while. Finally, I sighed and propped myself back up. "What are we going to do now?"

"I can't go back home," Connor said, slowly and deliberately.

"Me neither."

Connor frowned. "Why not?"

"Callie. Brandon told Stef and Lena that they fucked," Connor let out a low whistle, "and now they're going to send us back into the system."

Connor shook his head. "That can't happen. I can't lose you, Jude. I can't."

I nodded. "Me neither. I couldn't make it without you."

* * *

And that's when we hatched our plan to run away together. Connor was 16, I was 15. Two kids running away and making it on their own. We snuck back into our houses late that night and stole our stuff and some money. We bought a pair of train tickets and made it to LA. Connor's mom lived there, and she was sort of a mess. She let us lie low for a while, until the police showed up one day looking for us. She lied and said she hadn't seen us, but then she told us we had to leave.

So we did. And we went from place to place; homeless shelters, LGBT hostels, couch surfing, you name it. We did some pretty messed up shit to get by. But we survived. And I never thought it wasn't worth it, because I had Connor. Could I really risk not having him in my life?

I realized I had been wandering for a while now, and I was sitting outside of Lena's office.

" _Momma's office,"_ I corrected. I walked inside. It was cluttered with papers and folders. Her computer screen let off the soft blue glow of its screensaver, the only light in the room.

I walked around to her desk, looking at pictures. Baby pictures of Brandon. Young pictures of the twins. Pictures of them through the years were hung up on the walls. Looking at her computer, I gasped.

The screensaver was a family picture taken years ago at Christmas. I remembered the picture. I remembered it because they wanted me in it. It was my first Christmas with the Fosters, all of us standing in front of the tree I had helped decorate.

I let out a sob. The caption read " _Family"_. What the fuck had I done?

I sat down in Lena's chair, put my head on the desk and cried. And I cried and I cried. God, what had I done? What had I fucked up so much?

I wiped the snot on the sleeve of my shirt and lifted my head up. I looked at the phone on her desk.

Did I still remember the number? Of course I did. It was one of the first things Lena had made me memorize, in case I ever got lost. It was my _home_ phone number now, because I had a home. I lifted the receiver. I heard the dial tone. _That's fine, just put the phone down now, Jude_. I started to punch in the numbers from muscle memory. _Okay Jude, you've had your phone. Now put it down._ One ring. Two rings. It's late, they're asleep. They won't answer this. Three rings. Four rings. Time for the answering machine.

Click. "Hello?" I heard Lena sleepily ask into the other side. _Momma's voice_. I gasped. I was listening to her speak. For the first time in years, I was hearing her. "Hello?" she asked again, sounding both more awake and more annoyed. "I can hear you breathing."

My lips moved. I tried to talk. I couldn't. My insides weren't working. Momma was talking and I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and missed her but nothing was working. My voice was caught by the lump in my throat. Tears were in my eyes.

"I'm hanging up now," I heard her say.

"Momma," I sobbed. A pause. Did she hear me? Did the surprise kill her? Would she even want to hear me?

"Jude?" A long pause. "Is that really you? Are you there?"

I heard another voice in the background. Stef's. "Honey, who's on the phone? Come back to bed," she groaned out.

"Honey, it's Jude. Jude's calling. Jude, talk to me. Talk to me sweety, where are you?"

I started to hyperventilate. "I'm at Anchor Beach. I'm in your office"

"Don't move. Don't move honey, I'll be right there. Don't move." I heard Stef start to speak and I hung up on reflex.

And I waited. I stared back at myself from the computer screen. Back at my little twelve year old body. I looked so young and innocent then. That's how Lena would remember me. Maybe older, but she'd remember me as this kid. A sweet, innocent little boy. Not the fucking trainwreck that I've become. God, why did I do this? Why did I call her? I needed to go find Connor and leave before I ruined her life even more.

Where was Connor anyway?

I didn't get a lot of time to think about that though, because I started to hear footsteps echoing down the hallway. I stayed in my seat. Lights flickered on outside in the hall. I stayed in my seat. The door opened.

And there was Lena.


End file.
